As the Sun Will Rise
by helplesslynerdy
Summary: Rose Tyler is sent to Scotland to live in a mysterious house during the London Blitz. Loosely based upon Beauty and the Beast.
1. Part One

Rose leaned up against the cold window of the automobile, watching the English countryside flash by. Her breath came out in small puffs, fogged up a small section and evaporated as quickly as it appeared.

 _I can't cry._ She squeezed her eyes shut against the traitorous moisture. _Mum would want me to keep a stiff upper lip, to 'carry on.'_ Despite her melancholy, Rose's mouth quirked up into a half smile as she remembered.

 _"Look, Rose!" her mother exclaimed, as they were walking home from the market one evening. She pointed at one of the posters that had recently been posted on the wall. "'Carry On!' Just like I always tell you. Quit filling your head with these dreams, saying that you want so much more than this 'provincial town' has to offer! Powell is a sector of London! I've worked very hard to get you here, and you will carry on! It's the British way!"_

Rose laughed mirthlessly. She was getting her just comeuppance, she supposed. She was now going further than she had ever gone before.

* * *

It was September of 1940, and German bombs were barraging London. The city was being brought to its knees, and they were sending children out to the country to protect them. Rose was 19, however, and was well past the age of the children being sent out. For goodness' sake, she was older than some of the girls who had run away to become nurses!

Rose had tried to apply to be a nurse, but the board had turned her down. She was the only child of her mother, they said, and her mother was also not there to give her consent. Her mum was trapped in America. She had gone to see ailing Grandma Prentice earlier last year, right before war had been declared. Her mum may as well be in another universe now. Rose had no way to contact her, and her community had deemed it best that she be sent away for protection. She was now being sent to the Scottish countryside.

 _This is what you get, Rose Tyler, for complaining that Powell was too small for you._ She was now being sent into the proper middle-of-nowhere like a child for protection. She could be making a difference, standing up to the Nazis and tending to the wounded soldiers. Instead, she would be trapped in a house with a bunch of strangers, all alone.

* * *

Rose woke with a start, having unwittingly dropped off during the ride. She realized the automobile had stopped in front of a large gate. The driver, who had refused to speak with her the entire way, quickly rounded the auto and opened her door. He then unceremoniously dropped her carpetbag at her feet, and drove off without a fare-thee-well. Rose's eyes briefly followed the dust that followed in the auto's wake. _Good riddance to bad rubbish, eh?_ She rolled her eyes and then turned to view the gate.

The sky was dark, as if a storm was about to roll in. A low fog covered the ground, and made it difficult for her to see very far ahead. Rose walked forward and pulled at the gate. After a brief squeal of protest, the gate slowly groaned open. She pulled it behind her and began walking up the path.

As she crested a small hill, Rose gasped at the sight before her. It was a castle. They had dropped her off at a honest-to-goodness castle. She shut her mouth with an audible click, and began to take hesitant steps forward.

The castle was definitely something out of a gothic nightmare. Gargoyles loomed from perches high up on the turrets. Crackling brown branches of ivy tangled around the stone masonry. Rose clutched her bag closer to herself. Why in the world would they have sent her here? It seemed a much more appropriate place for the dead than the living. Maybe, if she legged it, she could get to a nearby bus stop and get away. As she turned back round, she realized that there probably wouldn't be a bus stop for miles. The dreary moor seemed to stretch on forever, and the dirt roads were barely navigable.

A clap of thunder sounded as a deluge of rain started pouring down. She ran up to the ornately carved wooden door. _Might as well get shelter for the night._ She straightened her wool cap and smoothed down her skirt as she lifted the iron knocker. The subsequent bang made her jump. She heard the scrape of metal, like massive locks were being turned, and the door began to creak open.


	2. Part Two

The door opened to reveal a petite woman with dark hair and kind eyes. "Oh, my dear! You're soaked through! Come in, come in!" She ushered Rose into the small foyer. "I told the Brig that he should have waited with an umbrella for you. Oh, that man!" She scurried off into a small side room, and reemerged with a large towel. "Here, dear. Dry yourself off with that. My name is Mrs. Stewart, but you can call me Sarah Jane."

Rose accepted the hand offered and allowed a small smile. "I'm Rose. Rose Tyler."

"Rose. That's lovely." Sarah's eyes quickly scanned Rose from head to toe. "You're quite a bit older than I expected, but that's all right. Come, I'll get you sorted. You must be exhausted." Sarah Jane stooped to take the handle of Rose's carpetbag. "Here, follow me. I'll take you to your room so you can dry off and freshen up." Sarah Jane then turned and led the way from the foyer.

Rose followed the woman under a large archway into a main hallway. "Blimey," she whispered. She stopped in her tracks, gaping. There were two grand marble staircases twisting around on either side of a balcony. The raised ceiling had intricate plaster designs. Several large candelabras lined the handrails.

Rose then came to herself and ran up the right staircase where Sarah Jane was already halfway to the top. Sarah Jane stopped and turned as Rose tried to catch up. "It's all a bit much, isn't it? But we don't stand on ceremony around here, despite this mausoleum." She smiled. "Come, your room is just right over here."

The hallway was lined with a plush burgundy carpet, and there were tapestries and tartans lining the walls. Sarah Jane opened a door and stepped in. Rose had expected something nigh medieval, but the room was modern and light. There was a large bay window with a cushioned seat and a view over the moor on her left. The walls were a soft pink with high white railings lining the lower wall. Dominating the center of the room was a white canopy bed draped with a gold gauzy material. A matching wardrobe stood to the right. A large pink and gold rug with weaving circular designs like a clock's interior covered most of the wooden floor.

Rose realized that Sarah Jane had already started to unpack her meager dresses. "Oh, please. You've already done so much," she said, walking over and picking up her bag. "I can do this."

"Well, I'll leave you to it, then," Sarah Jane said, dusting her hands down her flowered apron. She went to leave, and then turned back to Rose with a maternal smile on her face. "I know this can't be easy for you, but I'm going to do everything in my power to make you comfortable while you're here." She placed a hand on Rose's shoulder and squeezed reassuringly. "If you need anything, there's a telephone over on your end table. Just dial 3, and that will reach me in the kitchen." Rose bit her lip and looked away, nodding. "I'll come and get you for supper. You can then meet my husband and my son. I don't think my employer will be joining us this evening, but you'll be meeting him soon enough."

Rose looked back up at Sarah Jane. "Wait, what? This isn't your home?"

"Oh, heavens no!" Sarah Jane laughed. "I'm just the housekeeper. Mind you, I run a tight ship." Sarah Jane's mock-stern face eased back into a smile. "This house belongs to the Doctor."

"The Doctor," Rose repeated. "Doctor who?"

Sarah Jane paused, a shadow passing over her face. "I'll have to explain that to you later, dear. For now, you get yourself out of those wet clothes and rest. I'll be back up in a couple of hours."

Sarah Jane left the room and shut the door with a soft click. Rose's knees gave out and she sank to the bed. The tears she denied herself earlier began to flow down her face as she curled up on top of comforter and drifted to sleep.

Rose walked along the hallway, hand raised towards the wall to catch herself if she had to quickly hide. She passed the staircases to start walking into the west wing of the castle. The hall seemed to get progressively darker, and cooler as she walked along. Her surroundings seemed otherworldly, and she could have sworn she heard a soft humming like mechanical breath around her. The hairs pricked up on the back of her neck as she continued.

She began to hear muffled sobs coming from the room at the end of the hall. They sounded like they were coming from a man, wrenching jaggedly from his throat. Curiosity trumped her fear, and she continued to the door with a ghoulish knob hanging. Rose took a deep breath and pushed on the door…

Rose jerked up in her bed, gulping in air. _Only a dream, only a dream._ She pushed her sweat and rain-matted blonde hair off of her face and looked around the room. The light had only changed a bit since she last remembered looking out the window, so she couldn't have slept for long. She got up to look for a washbasin to clean up. There was a door she hadn't noticed off to the side of the wardrobe. She opened the door and turned on the electric light to see a full bath and indoor plumbing. _Thank goodness._ The clock on the wall in her room said that it was 6pm, and she figured that Sarah Jane would be coming for her at 7. Enough time for a quick bath. She found a hairbrush and pins on the vanity and after a thorough combing she pinned her hair up and stepped into the steamy waters she had drawn.

As she soaked, her mind wandered to the odd circumstance in which she found herself. Who was this mysterious "Doctor" without a name? Why did Sarah Jane's bright countenance dampen when speaking of him? Why would she not be meeting him tonight? Questions swirled around until she shook herself and began to climb from the tub. _I can't fret about it now- I'm sure I'll have time enough to investigate._ Rose toweled herself off and slipped into her nicest light blue frock. She again brushed out her hair and went to pin back the sides.

As she was finishing her hair, a soft tapping came from outside the door. "Rose? Are you ready?"

"Come in, Mrs. Stewart," Rose called.

"Oh, you look so nice." Sarah Jane beamed. "Come, supper's ready for you."

"I hope you don't mind eating in the kitchen this evening. We never set the dinner table unless the Doctor is taking his supper." As they passed into the enormous, modern kitchen, Rose saw two men trying to sneak into the food.

"Oi! Get out of there, you two!"

Both men spun around, looking like two guilty little boys. One was a portly gentleman with peppered hair and a mustache, and the other was a boy who couldn't be a day over fifteen.

"Boys, this is Rose Tyler. Rose, these two beggars are my husband, Alistair and my son, Luke." Both extended a hand to Rose.

"Nice to meet you," Luke mumbled softly. Rose tried to give him her most welcoming grin.

Next, Alistair shook her hand warmly. "You can call me Brig or Brigadier, Miss Rose."

"He was in the Boer Wars. This one won't let us forget what a hero he was." Sarah Jane couldn't quite keep the underlying pride off her face. "Here, let's get you a plate, sweetheart, since these two can't remember to make another place." Sarah Jane's stern glare melted into light laughter as she retrieved the necessary utensils.

After grace, the three tucked in to a hearty meal of beef stew and fresh bread. Rose had to remind herself of her manners, as she had been too nervous to eat earlier in the morning. They allowed her to devour half of her meal before the Brigadier broke the silence. "So, Miss Rose, where are you from in London?"

"Powell. Just a little hamlet almost on the outskirts of the city."

"And your family?" Luke asked, earning him a little swat on the arm from his mother.

"No, it's all right. My mother is in America with her mother. She visited right before we went to war, and hasn't been able to get back. The village was afraid for my safety, so here I am." Rose shrugged and bit off a piece of bread.

"Well, you're very welcome here, Miss Rose," the Brigadier added.

"Please, just Rose."

"Yes, miss."

Rose smiled. Rose could not hold her curiosity back any longer. "So, who is the gentleman whose kindness I am imposing upon?"

"The Doctor," the Brigadier answered softly.

"And what's his full name?"

Sarah Jane and the Brigadier exchanged a look. "We aren't sure, to be honest," Sarah Jane finally answered.

Rose raised a quizzical brow.

"We know that he's of the McCrimmon clan, and he's also originally from London. But outside of that, we just know him as 'the Doctor.' That's all he ever gave us." The Brigadier pulled a hand down his face. "We had been working this estate until it was settled who would inherit. Shortly after returning from the Great Arab Revolt in Palestine, the Doctor inherited it." He paused, and then added, "The poor man has known great sorrow."

Rose looked from face to face of the three before her- all were expressionless. "What happened?" she asked.

"We're not completely sure of that, either," Sarah Jane reluctantly responded. "All we know is that he lost his young wife and daughter. No more details than that."

"It's like his name is some sort of punishment," Luke interjected.

"Hush, Luke," Sarah Jane responded. "That's enough of that."

Rose looked back down to her food, chilled and forgotten. "Will I meet him this evening?"

Sarah Jane looked at the Brigadier, and then back at Rose. "I'm not sure, dear, but I wouldn't count on it. He's very changeable. Nothing to fear, assuredly, but he's a very private person."

Rose nodded. Sarah Jane rose and started collecting the plates, and Rose jumped up to help her. "No," Sarah Jane chided. "You're a guest here. We'll have this all cleaned up in no time. While we're doing that, Luke, please show Rose around."

Luke bashfully smiled and stood. "Yes, Mum."

Rose and Luke walked to the door. "Oh, Luke?" the Brigadier called.

"Yeah, Da?"

"Don't forget to warn her about the West Wing."


	3. Part Three

Luke led Rose down the hallway to another set of stairs towards the back of the castle.

"So, Luke, what do you do around here?"

Luke shuffled a little and then responded. "Oh, a bit of this and that. Mainly, I help Da keep up the animals and tend to our gardens. Tinkering, when I can." Luke then allowed himself a bit of a proud smile.

Rose grinned back. "So, you like to tinker, eh? Anything in particular you're working on?"

Luke became more animated. "I'm working on this machine to help Da when he's chopping the wood. He's getting a bit on now, and it's not as easy for him. I try to help as I can, but this would lighten the load. Whenever it's not blowing a gale, would you like to see?"

Rose couldn't help but to find the boy's enthusiasm adorable. "Of course I would."

Luke took them down a corridor. "Here's the greenhouse. We haven't much now, but it'll be a right jungle come spring." Rose brushed her fingers along the leaves of a poinsettia. "Those will bloom through Christmas."

Luke showed Rose the various rooms that were kept under sheets- some locked.

Rose walked into a large room that looked like it had once been a ballroom. The furniture had been pushed to the corners and covered in sheets. The long windows were draped in dark curtains. "Most of these aren't used, then."

"No, miss. No real need, as there's only a few of us ever here."

"Rose. I can't be more than a few years older than you, Luke."

"I'm fifteen." He stuck his chest out with all the pride of youth.

"Well, I'm nineteen. Not much older, yeah? So none of this 'miss' nonsense."

"Yes, Rose." Luke chuckled.

Rose walked out into the hallway and spun around. "Is there anything interesting to explore?"

"Down that way is the library."

Rose brightened. "You all have a library?"

"Oh, yes! More books than you could hope to read in a lifetime! Any subject you could study! We'll have to go there-"

Rose had come upon a disused staircase with drawn curtains keeping it all in shadow. "What's up there, then?"

"That's the back stairwell to the West Wing. No one but the Doctor is allowed up that way."

Rose walked up and tenuously put a foot on the first step. "I wonder what he's hiding up there."

Suddenly, they both could hear the sound of a man yelling- albeit far away.

"Told you…no remembrances!" She could hear Sarah's soft voice trying to placate. "Don't want her…no charity…not here!"

A door banged from the other end of the hallway and Sarah came down the left side of the grand staircase. Her eyes narrowed as she saw the two standing at the base of the other stairs.

"Luke!" Sarah Jane whispered heatedly. "What are you doing back here?"

"We were just coming back from the greenhouse, Mum."

"You know better than to be hanging around here too long."

"Yes, Mum." Luke hung his head slightly, while Rose fidgeted.

"Come now, Rose. The Doctor wants to see you."

Rose tried to keep an incredulous look off her face as she followed the woman back up the stairs and took a quick left before they entered the foreboding West Wing.

Sarah Jane turned quickly to Rose. "Wait right here."

Rose could only nod.

Sarah opened the door to what looked like a study, lit only by firelight. "Rose is outside the door."

"Send her in, then go."

Sarah Jane opened the door a little wider, stepping back into the hallway. She took in Rose's frightened face before whispering, "He's mostly bluster- he won't harm you. Just allow him to speak his piece, then he'll dismiss you." She patted Rose's shoulder, then began descending the stairs.

Rose bit her lip. _He's not the big, bad wolf. He won't eat you up._ She squared her shoulders, and strode into the room trying to convey the confidence she most decidedly was not feeling.

The room was almost completely in the dark, save for the light of the blazing fire to the left. What little Rose could see was in a disarray, papers, books, and even bits of metal strewn about the room. Rose could see two long legs, clad in brown and blue striped pajama pants stretching from a ratty wingback chair. The wings were blocking the rest of his form.

"Are you just going to stand there?" His voice had a slight Scottish lilt, but she could tell that he had lived the majority of his life in London. Rose broke from her contemplation and approached the chair.

As she rounded the wings, she was finally able to see the rest of the man in profile. The firelight flickered, making his form slightly harder to define. The Doctor was much younger than she had anticipated- he seemed to be in his mid-thirties. He was a very thin man, wrapped in a deep blue dressing gown. He had a shock of what she gauged was sort of brown hair. Severe cheekbones were covered with a scruff that ran down his neck, and his nose had a slight hook. She could see his dimples deepening as he ground his teeth. What were most captivating were his eyes. They were almost black in the firelight, and aged. His eyes looked like those of a man who had lived a thousand years too long.

"Had enough of a look?" he asked rudely.

Rose looked away quickly, trying to avoid upsetting the man further.

"They didn't send us a mute, did they? It would definitely be preferable. A little less idiocy to spread around in this wasteland. What few people who are here cannot be put upon to have the good sense to get out of this forsaken country- I might as well be surrounded by stupid apes. At least I won't have to worry about any of that from you in light of your predicament."

Rose couldn't take his manner any longer. "I'm not mute, nor am I a 'stupid ape.'"

The Doctor seemed surprised then amused with her reply. "So, she _does_ speak. What's your name, girl?" He swirled an amber liquid in the tumbler he was holding.

Rose kept her eyes steadily on the floor. "Rose Tyler, sir."

"Don't give me that 'sir' rubbish. And while I'm at it, don't give me a salute, either. It's just the Doctor."

Rose felt it best to let him lead the conversation completely, and returned to her silence.

"What did you do while you were at home, Rose Tyler?"

"I worked in a little bookshop."

"Ah, and did you partake in any of the wares? Or were you too busy flirting with the customers?"

Rose's cheeks reddened and her eyes flashed. "Yes, I read. Have done for quite a few years now, thank you. And it was a respectable job." She raised her chin in defiance.

The Doctor considered her, and then seemed to decide it was best to not push her any further. "Look, Rose Tyler, the only reason you are under my roof is to soothe Sarah's need to help strays. Do your best to stay out of my way, and I'll do likewise. All I demand is that you stay away from the West Wing."

"I will, sir. Thank you for housing me."

He scoffed. "Again, that thanks is entirely for Sarah Jane. You can go. You'll find the door back where you entered." He then turned back to the fire with an air of dismissal.

A moment passed while Rose gathered what was left of her dignity, and she then left the room as quickly as she could without running. _The nerve of that man! I didn't ask to be left at his doorstep- if I had somewhere else to go, I would!_ Once she passed the staircases, she began to run towards her room. After she shut and locked her door, she sank to the floor.


	4. Part Four

Rose spent her first week mainly outside in the gardens. The sun was shining and it was unseasonably warm for late September. She tried to bask up in what little sun would be left before the winter.

Rose helped Luke in the gardens, watched him tinker with his inventions, or played with the rambunctious Scottish terrier they kept, Canine. "The Doctor said that you should call something what it is, and not bother with names for an animal," Luke explained when she asked about the unimaginative name.

Though she enjoyed her outdoor excursions, Rose sometimes she felt like she was being secretly observed. She would be rolling around on the ground with Canine or exploring one of the many gardens and the hairs would prickle on her neck. She would then turn and find no one there.

The Doctor never made any sort of appearance. Infrequently, however, Rose would hear him bellowing at Sarah Jane- all of which Sarah Jane seemed to take in stride. _If I had an employer like that, I'd be out the door so fast it would make his head spin._ She had yet to unpack her things- she was always afraid that the Doctor would one day change his mind and throw her out on her ear.

The weather did not hold up, unfortunately, and the autumn rains began with a vengeance. Rose helped Sarah Jane in the kitchen for most of the day, but was shooed out after dinner. _Might as well explore inside some more. Didn't Luke say something about a library?_ Rose took to the downstairs in search.

After turning down too many wrong corridors, Rose decided to try to return to her room. As she walked down the hallway, she passed by the forbidden stairway. Rose paused, as she could faintly hear a piano being played. Curiosity overrode any reservations she may have had as she began to ascend the stairs.

Cobwebs hung from the ceiling and the unadorned stonewalls let in a draught, which made her unconsciously shiver. The music became recognizable as she drew closer. Her mother had been given to despondent music whenever she thought of Rose's father, who had passed away when Rose was small. The slow, flowing tones of _Pavane pour une infante défunte_ brought tears to her eyes. A door ahead of her was ajar, with the music calling to her from within. She crept towards the door and peeked at the available view. The Doctor was seated at a grand piano, his head bowed over the keys. Though his back was turned to her she could still make out his long fingers as they dexterously danced across the ivory. She stayed behind the shadow of the door, and tried to make out the rest of the room. There was a small candelabrum on the piano, outlining the Doctor's form and casting the rest of the room in a dim light. Furniture was overturned or still covered with sheets. Crumpled papers were strewn about his perimeter.

Rose's eyes scanned the rest of the room and landed upon a photograph hung on the wall. A beautiful, fair-haired woman was grinning at the photographer. In her arms was a small girl, no older than three or four, with coal black hair and sparkling dark eyes. _Is that his wife? His little girl?_ While she continued to study the photograph, Rose failed to notice that the music had begun to taper off. Suddenly, it stopped and she gasped. The Doctor materialized in front of her, towering over her with eyes blazing.

"What do you think you're doing? Did I not specifically tell you that you had no business here? No, did I not _demand_ that you not come in the West Wing?"

"I'm…I'm so sorry, sir."

Rose was frozen in shock as he threw his tumbler across the room and it shattered. "Thought you'd have a little spy on the hermit? See what makes him tick? Come and see the mad Doctor?" The Doctor's voice suddenly went very low, the smooth tone more frightening than his previous bellowing. _"Get out."_

Rose turned and ran through the hallway towards her room. She'd save him the trouble of throwing her out- she'd just leave! _Thank goodness I had the foresight to not unpack!_ With trembling hands she threw on her coat and cap and grabbed her carpetbag. The Stewarts had already turned in for the night, and the only regret she had was that she wouldn't be able to say goodbye to them.

The rains had picked up, with the wind whipping about her. _Great, of course._ She began to run towards the road, not stopping to recognize the foolishness of her scheme. _Maybe an auto will pass, and I can hitch a ride into the nearest town._ She ran towards the gate, not even bothering to close it. As she approached the road, she decided to keep running to at least be out of sight of the gate. The mud clung to her heels, and her sopping skirt became more of a hindrance as she continued to push herself.

She knew she would be more noticeable to oncoming drivers on the left side of the road, so she tried to cross. Rose dodged the large puddles, but failed to see a slick part right in front of her. She slid across and landed hard on her side. Rising up on all fours, Rose tried to stand, only to fall back to the muddy road. Her ankle had been completely twisted, possibly broken, and she could no longer stand. Rose tried to pull herself to the side of the road and heard the last sound she wanted to hear. _An oncoming automobile._ The gold headlights blinded her as she made a futile attempt to pull herself off the road. The car started to swerve as it hydroplaned towards her. Rose grasped desperately at the road when she felt someone lift underneath her arms from behind and pull her off the road. They both landed on a bank, hard and Rose turned to see her rescuer. The Doctor hovered above her, breathing heavily, his fringe dripping about his face.

After several breathless moments, he seemed to come to himself, and pushed up off the ground. Without speaking, he assessed her physical condition, noting the odd angle of her ankle. He lifted it slowly, and Rose took in a sharp breath, her consciousness becoming fuzzy. The pain made itself even more prominent, and Rose fully lost consciousness. The Doctor scooped her up into his arms and began to carry her back to the house.


	5. Part Five

Rose awoke to a blurred form above her. She blinked several times and the amorphous figure cleared to show the concerned face of Sarah Jane. "Oh, sweetheart. You're awake." Rose tried to pull herself up, and Sarah Jane kept her from lifting herself too quickly. "No, Rose. You've been hurt. Just take it easy. Here, drink this." She handed Rose a small glass of water. "How are you feeling?"

"Sore. Like a thousand elephants paraded on my head." She shifted, noticing that her ankle was being held stationary.

"Oh, the Doctor wrapped your ankle while you were still out, dear. Seems you may have broken it in your fall," Sarah Jane clarified.

Rose lifted the sheets covering her legs and saw an expertly wound bandage covering her right foot. Flashes of what caused the injury began to come back, chagrin crossing her face. "Where is the Doctor?"

"Oh, I finally convinced that man to go to bed. He said that there was nothing to fear, but he's hardly left your room since last night."

Rose looked at the waning light of a sunset basking the room in an orange glow. "You've been out for about nineteen hours. The Doctor said there was no concussion, that you were just resting off stress." Sarah Jane's lips trembled. "When I finally got him to tell me what happened, all he would say was that he said he scared you, and that you had run off."

"It was my fault," Rose said, looking at her lap. "I was poking where I shouldn't have."

"Whatever you did, Rose, it wasn't worth the rage that man brought down on you, I'm sure," Sarah Jane said firmly. "Now, I'm going to go get you something to eat. Fancy a cuppa, as well? I'm sure you're famished!"

Rose nodded, and Sarah Jane rose and left the room.

Luke brought up Rose's dinner, and the two talked briefly as she ate. Dinner finished, Rose started to feel tired again and started to doze off. When she woke up, the fire Luke had built for the evening had started to die down. As her eyes drifted around her room, she noted a figure standing in her doorway watching her. _The Doctor._ The shirtsleeves of his light blue oxford were rolled up, and his hands were tucked in his trouser pockets. His brown hair was still in disarray, but his appearance was neater than she had seen it yet. Her eyes locked with his, and she swallowed.

"So, you're awake then." His voice still carried a bit of the brashness of their first meeting.

"Yes."

"Miracle you're still with us, what with your idiotic scheme to run away in the middle of a monsoon."

Rose's jaw dropped in indignation. "If you hadn't frightened me so, I wouldn't have run off in the middle of the night!"

"How can you turn this on me? You weren't supposed to be there, ever!" the Doctor spluttered.

"You need to learn to curb that preposterous temper!"

The Doctor's mouth moved like a goldfish's, but no sound came out.

Rose turned her head to the side, taking in a few breaths. She then turned back to him, gaze softening. "Thank you, though, for…" she looked down at her hands as her words failed her.

"Don't mention it," the Doctor replied quietly, running a hand through his hair. "I'll um, I'll be back in the morning to check on your ankle- see if it's broken. Don't try and do something ridiculous like walk on it."

"I won't. Frankly, I don't think I could if I wanted to."

The Doctor's mouth quirked into a half-smile, the first Rose had ever seen on his face. "Oh, I'm quite certain you're pigheaded enough to try. Right then. Go to sleep." The Doctor shut the door and left.

Rose stared at the door for a few minutes before her body insisted she comply.

The next morning, the Brigadier carried Rose into her bathroom, and Sarah Jane helped her to clean her hair. After they were finished, the Brigadier came back in to carry Rose back to her bed.

Rose got slightly flustered as Sarah Jane tucked the covers about her. "You all are too kind to be helping me, but if I have to remain an invalid for long, I may go a little mental."

"Oh, I don't know, I would say you're already nearly there." The Doctor's voice carried in from the hallway as he strode in the door with a small grin on his face. The Brigadier and Sarah Jane shared a look as Rose narrowed her eyes at the Doctor. Sarah Jane patted Rose's hand and took her husband's arm. "We'll go down to make up a little lunch."

The Doctor came up and pulled back Rose's covers.

"Oi!" Rose exclaimed. "Have you ever actually had dealings with human beings before? Let alone ladies? How about asking?"

The Doctor gave her an exasperated look. "May I please check the ankle that you have possibly fractured, milady?"

Rose smiled cheekily, with a hint of tongue caught in her teeth. "You may."

The Doctor stared at her mouth for the briefest second, and then his expression shifted into a medical mask. He pulled back her sheets the rest of the way, and gently lifted her ankle. Rose flinched, and he looked back at her. "I'm sorry, so sorry, but I need to set it if it is broken."

He began to unwrap her ankle methodically, while holding her ankle in place with his other hand to keep from hurting her. Rose was so mesmerized at how efficient he was at his work, that she was able to keep from thinking about the pain. Rose then considered his face while he continued. Why was he no longer practicing medicine?

Once the bandage was off, his cool fingers gently probed at her swollen ankle. "Can you move it at all?" She hesitantly flexed forward, gasping at the resulting pain. "All right, then. We're going to have to get you an x-ray."

"So we're going into town, yeah? Where's the nearest hospital?"

"No need. I have the necessary equipment here."

"A full x-ray machine. Here," Rose repeated slowly.

"Yep." The Doctor popped the 'p.' "Now, Dame Rose," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, "may I please carry milady to yonder room so that I may scan your edematous ankle with an x-ray generator?"

Rose's eyes grew rounder, completely losing their mirth. "Um, sure."

The Doctor easily lifted her, despite his lean frame, and began carrying her down the hallway, deeper into the East Wing. Rose kept her eyes firmly focused ahead and away from the Doctor's face. He stopped at a door, and after standing a minute, asked Rose, "Would you mind?"

"Oh!" Rose fumbled for the doorknob in front of her.

The door opened and revealed medical machinery in a room worthy of the most modern hospital. He set her down on a bed and went around the room gathering up different items. He came back with a large apron that he laid across her shoulders and torso. "This will keep your insides from frying from the radiation. Well- at least it's proved to in so many of my tests."

"Wait. You developed this yourself?"

"Oh, bit of a hobby. Did a little of this and that. Nice when it was on the military's payroll, now I'm working out of my own pocket. Here, stay still."

"Are you sure this is safe?"

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "No, Rose Tyler, I'm using you as a guinea pig for all my evil medical schemes. Of course it's safe. Now, keep still!"

Rose leaned back as he set the machine over her ankle. He then placed a similar apron over his own body and clicked a nearby button. "There now, we survived that, eh?" He took the aprons and set them back in a cupboard. "I'll come back and check it all later. We'll get you back to your room so I can work." He picked her back up and walked back to her room.

Rose didn't expect the man to start opening up to her- she only got him talking in almost civil sentences the day before. She couldn't keep herself from asking the question, though. "Why are you no longer in the military?"

The Doctor stopped without looking down at her, and then started walking again. He then turned into her room and set her down on the bed. Rose pressed on, despite her better judgment begging for her to leave it be. "You can't have all of this medical stuff in a castle, for goodness' sake, and then expect me to not wonder why."

His eyes were guarded as he finally made eye contact with her. "I suppose not. I was discharged. I had been working as a medic in Palestine, but was also helping to develop ways to make the machinery more resistant to the harsh weather of the desert. Also was developing ways to shield the patients and doctors from radiation." He turned, and sat on the bed beside her, his eyes focused on some place far away. "I was demonstrating the use of the x-ray on myself for a board, hoping they would approve the new equipment for field use. Came to find out I had hypertrophic cardiomyopathy." He laughed sardonically. "Might as well have two hearts, it's so enlarged. Completely asymptomatic, but they couldn't kick me out fast enough. Less money to be wasted on equipment too, I suppose. But all of the lives it could have saved…"

Rose reached out to touch him, but brought her hand back. He quickly stood, the impassive look back in place. "I'll go back and look at the x-ray and see if there's something I need to set. I'll send Sarah Jane up with a pack to ice it in the meantime." He then abruptly left the room.


	6. Part Six

The Doctor sped back to the med room, furiously tapping the rhythm of _Moonlight Sonata_ on his trouser leg. Why bring it up? _Idiot, nincompoop, thick, thick, THICK._ He turned back into the room and shut the door. Locked it for good measure. He leaned against the frame, eyes shut, and slid down the door to the floor. The memories that he spent every hour trying to repress, whether through drink or work, now mercilessly assaulted him.

 _Romana laughing, grasping his arm as they ran away from the farmer who caught them trespassing-_

 _The halo of her hair, glowing like it was on fire in the sunrise, on that first morning of their honeymoon-_

 _The doctor placing Susan in his arms, her tiny body cuddling to his, cupid's bow mouth slowly twitching in sleep-_

 _Walking up to the bay window of their small cottage in London, watching Romana and Susan twirling in the garden-_

The Doctor pushed the heels of his hands into his eyes, trying to shove them back into his brain to make it stop.

 _Walking in the door of their cottage to see Romana's mother's tear-stained face._

 _Unyielding granite in the snow…my dancing girl…Susan hated the cold…_

 _Romana's golden locks dull, her face red, each breath painfully dragging itself from her lungs…_

 _My fault._

 _My fault._

 _…I wasn't there._

The sound of Rose's laughter broke the Doctor's downward spiral. He dragged both hands down his face and stood to his feet. X-ray, right. He pulled the film with the image and placed it up to a light. Fractured, yes, but easily set. Cast, five to six weeks healing, probably. He looked around the room for a set of crutches he had made. Lightweight, easy to use- if only they could be a little more sonic. He allowed himself a small smile as he thought about his recent attempts, and failures, to create technology that relied on the manipulation of sound waves.

Rose laughed again, and he let his thoughts wander to the newest tenant of the castle. She was much older than what he had anticipated- and much brighter. She loved to wander around the gardens, and seemed to have made fast friends with his staff. He had thought that his blustering would have deterred her interest, but she had…tenacity. She was an attractive girl, with a smile…No. _No, we are not going down THAT road. She may be more clever and easier on the eyes than what the rest of this county has to offer, but she'll be gone soon, with the end of this war._ The Doctor gathered up the rest of the supplies he would need to make the cast and set off back to Rose.


	7. Part Seven

Rose had become quite adept at traveling on crutches. These were much lighter and, paradoxically, much stronger than the wooden ones her friends had had to use when they were children. She still had to have someone nearby whenever she tried the steep stairs, but otherwise her swift clacking could be heard echoing the hallways of the castle.

The Doctor had kept his distance since that day he opened up to her. He would come and check on her ankle, make sure it wasn't swelling, then make an excuse to leave. Rose became increasingly frustrated. Why did he keep pushing her away when all she wanted to do was be his friend? She had seen a break in his armor, and she wanted nothing more than to chip away at that hole. Today she was going to find him and try to befriend him. Rose Tyler was on a mission, and the Doctor could not possibly realize what was about to hit him.

Rose looked in the study that the Doctor usually haunted first. _Nope, not there_. Rose couldn't hear any kind of movement or sound from farther into the West Wing, and she dared not try and disturb him there. Rose then remembered how the Doctor said that his hobby was working on that medical equipment, so she about-faced and went to the end of the hallway.

As she approached the door, she was stopped by the Doctor's voice. "I could hear your incessant tap-tapping coming this way, so you might as well turn your energies in the other direction. I'm busy!" Rose ignored his grouching and opened the door. The Doctor was sitting on the floor surrounded by pieces of metal, wires wrapping around his shoulders. His hair was sticking up in the front like a bird's plumage, and his tongue was touching the back of his top teeth in concentration. The messy scruff still hid most of his face and neck. Hanging on the tip of his nose were a pair of tortoiseshell spectacles, which he automatically pushed back up his face as he looked up at her. Rose couldn't help but stare at the man before her. Before, Rose had always found men of the more brawny persuasion attractive, but she could now see the advantages of the swotty look.

"Came here for one of your staring matches, eh? Well, I already told you I'm busy, as you can see." The Doctor went back to tinkering on the machinery in his hand, obviously thinking that would dismiss her.

"What do you have there?" Rose asked, coming farther into the room.

"Nothing I have time to explain to you," the Doctor retorted.

"Try me."

The Doctor rattled off something complicated about the manipulation of sound waves and how they could eventually replace the use of x-ray. Rose did not understand most of the technical jargon he threw at her but was surprised at her own ability to keep up.

"So, you're basically trying to find a way to scan with the least amount of harm to the patient or technician, yeah? And you're convinced sound waves are the way to go?" Rose tried her best to keep her face in an inquisitive look without letting her inner smug grin shine through.

The Doctor gaped at her, then shut his mouth with a sharp click. "Well, if you're so clever, you can help me by giving me that wire there." Rose reached over for the wire and handed it to him. The Doctor began wrapping it around a piece he was working on, and then he paused and looked back up at Rose. "You might as well sit down, since you've decided to take up residence here."

Rose smiled, tongue-in-teeth. "Better with two."

"Doesn't seem like I have much of a choice in the matter." As she eased herself down, his mouth pulled into a small grin.

The work became a daily ritual for the both of them. Rose would come in, the Doctor would hem and haw for a few minutes and then they would get to work. Rose found his work incredibly interesting and was now pinching books from his workroom to read in the evenings. She tentatively began to ask him questions, and his resulting bright grins were almost worth more to her than the answers she was seeking.

Rose was tightening some small screws on a part when the Doctor asked her, "So, Rose Tyler, what did you read whilst peddling your books?"

She looked up in slight confusion. He never asked her anything remotely personal, she thought, for fear that she would ask the same of him. But she was not going to waste this opportunity. "Oh, you know, whatever. I read a few novels. A little bit of poetry, too."

"How uncharacteristically vague. One would think that you were ashamed of your tastes."

"No! I mean, I'm not as well read as I would like to be."

The Doctor smiled, and she could see he was just winding her up. "So, what are your favorites of what you read?"

Rose paused in her work, focusing on a point in the wall, and then said. "Twain. I know it's not vogue to like American novelists, but he's brilliant. He has a very intuitive grasp of human nature- though sometimes a bit harsh." Rose blushed at the proud smile that crossed the Doctor's face.

The Doctor affected a rather poor Southern accent. "'No. 3. They require that the personages in a tale shall be alive, except in the case of corpses, and that always the reader shall be able to tell the corpses from the others. But this detail has often been overlooked in the "Deerslayer" tale.'"

Rose couldn't help herself any longer and burst out laughing. "'Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses' is my favorite. It makes me laugh so hard I cry every time I read it!"

"What poetry did you like?"

"Oh, I love Keats and Shelley."

The Doctor rolled his eyes. "Of course, the bloomin' Romantics."

"Oh, and I'm sure you enjoy the likes of Pound and Eliot."

"Oi! Eliot's "'Prufrock' is sheer genius!"

"'And would it have been worth it, after all /After the cups, the marmalade, the tea, /Among the porcelain, among some talk of you and me, / Would it have been worth while, / To have bitten off the matter with a smile…'" Rose smiled at the surprise on the Doctor's face. "Yeah, I can see why a grump like you would like it."

The Doctor huffed at her half-heartedly. "Since you're such a connoisseur, what poem do you feel is worthy of your regard?"

Rose hesitated and looked to her lap before she started reciting,

"'somewhere i have never travelled, gladly beyond  
any experience, your eyes have their silence:  
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,  
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look easily will unclose me  
though i have closed myself as fingers,  
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens  
(touching skilfully, mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and  
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,  
as when the heart of this flower imagines  
the snow carefully everywhere descending;

nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals  
the power of your intense fragility: whose texture  
compels me with the color of its countries,  
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes  
and opens; only something in me understands  
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)  
nobody, not even the rain, has such small hands'"

The Doctor was completely silent, and Rose slowly looked up, afraid to meet his condescension. Instead, she saw tears brimming in his eyes, and as their eyes met he roughly cleared his throat and broke the contact.

Rose scooted herself towards where he was sitting and hesitantly laid a hand on his arm. "Are you all right?"

"Always am," he replied gruffly.

Rose searched his face and made a decision to push the issue. "No. No, you're not. I'm not going to make you tell me why you're upset, but the least you could do is not lie to me."

"As if that's ever going to be enough for you. All you ever do is pick, pick, pick."

She took a couple of deep breaths before replying. "Doctor, you're not going to bully me into running away this time. Quit trying so hard."

The Doctor sat in silence while staring ahead, maintenance long set aside.

Rose looked down at his hand that was laying palm up on the floor beside her. She reached down and threaded his fingers with hers. He turned sharply to her. She gazed back at him and gently squeezed his hand. His fingers then tightened around hers. They both leaned against the wall in silence for a few moments. Rose then squeezed his hand again before letting go and scooting back to her crutches.

She broke the tense silence. "You know where I am if you want to talk. Or not, you know, whatever."

The Doctor nodded without looking at her, and Rose left the room, softly shutting the door.

**Quotes are from "Fenimore Cooper's Literary Offenses" by Mark Twain, "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" by T. S. Eliot, and "somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond" by e. e. cummings.


	8. Part Eight

Rose was lying on top of her covers, idly playing with her hair. She wanted to nap so her mind would stop turning, but no matter what she did she could not. Suddenly, her door opened and the Doctor was standing in the doorway. She pushed herself up, too surprised to chide him for not knocking.

The Doctor swallowed. "Romana hated e. e. cummings." His voice was still gruff with emotion.

Rose paused before responding. "Romana. Was that your wife?"

The Doctor nodded. "I loved his poetry, especially the one you just recited for me. Oh, she and I would argue about it. She would say it was unintelligible nonsense; I would tell her that his poetry is meant to be felt and experienced just as much as it is to be read."

He was pacing the room, laughing despite the tears that were obviously threatening to run down his face. His hair stood up in tufts where he kept raking his hands through it. Rose curled up, holding her knees to her chest. She refused to break the spell that was allowing him to talk about his past. The Doctor finally stopped and sank down to sit on the edge of Rose's bed.

"She loved Tennyson. 'The Lady of Shalott,' 'Crossing the Bar,' 'In Memorium.'" His voice cracked with the last title. "That's what I read for her when…" he trailed off, trying to keep what little composure he had left. "She adored the flair of his writing. You couldn't convince her that any other writer compared. She was infuriatingly stubborn."

Rose reached for his hand, and he grabbed on to it like a lifeline. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

"I just..." The tears that he had held back began to fall down his face. "I just miss them so much." They both sat for an unknown length of time, as the Doctor accepted the first comfort since he had lost his wife and child four years before.

Rose knew that the Doctor still had a long road ahead of him. Since that day in her room, she never pushed for him to talk to her. Every once in a while he would mention something about Romana or Susan, only to immediately change the subject.

They returned to their routine of working together. Rose talked about her dreams of traveling; the Doctor shared his many experiences. Though they worked every day, progress seemed to continue slowly. All was as before, except now the Doctor was a little kinder and would occasionally take her hand for a moment. It felt right.

Rose wasn't sure what all of this meant, nor did she care. They just got on with it.

Five weeks passed, and the Doctor deemed that Rose was ready to remove the cast. Rose dressed herself up in a smart pink frock that Sarah had made for her. She was finishing pinning up her hair into a loose bun when a fierce rapping came upon her door.

"Rose? Rose? Are you ready yet?" She could practically hear the Doctor bouncing on the balls of his feet in those American basketball shoes he insisted on wearing. She could also hear Luke on the other side of the door, stage-whispering. "Does she know yet?" The Doctor soundly shushed and shooed him off. "Roooooose. You can't possibly still be fixing your hair."

Rose grinned and clacked up to the door, opening it. "Oh, I was just going to take the crutches for one last spin. I'm actually going to miss the speed of these blasted things."

"I'm actually quite sick of helping you downstairs, as I'm sure everybody else is." The Doctor grinned unrepentantly.

Rose rolled her eyes, "Oh, come on, then."

He followed her into the med room where the mess had been miraculously cleaned. "What's all this?" she asked.

"Special day! Cast off the plaster and all that." He took out a small saw and in almost no time had the cast removed. Rose looked down at her pale, wrinkly foot, and a wide smile spread across her face. She moved to hop down, but the Doctor stopped her. "Woah, there. Easy does it. Let me help you to make sure you can carry your own weight." The Doctor took both of her hands into his, and Rose slid off the edge of the medical bed. She tentatively took several steps forward then grinned. She let go of the Doctor's hands and made a brisk circle around the room. She began to laugh, and the Doctor joined in with her.

Spontaneously, she stood on her tiptoes and wrapped her arms around his neck, still gleeful. Before he could think, the Doctor wrapped his arms around her waist and swung her from side to side. They then became aware of themselves, and he quickly set her back down. He rubbed the back of his neck, while she cautiously smiled up at him.

"The Brigadier, Sarah Jane, and Luke are all waiting, we'd better get downstairs," he said, opening the door for her.

"What are we doing now?"

"Well, I know you've been spending most of your time upstairs, thought we'd go downstairs for a bit." They rounded the corner to the right staircase where the three Stewarts were standing, waiting. The Doctor let Rose walk down the staircase by herself, but stood closely enough to catch her if her ankle gave out.

After hopping off the last step, Sarah Jane hugged Rose, and the Brigadier saluted her. Rose giggled. The Doctor came up from behind her and said, "Rose, there's been something I've been meaning to show you. Got a little bit sidetracked- but you'll have that when you're as brilliant as me."

Rose scoffed. "You think you're so impressive."

"Oi!" The Doctor squeaked, albeit, more than he meant to. "I _am_ so impressive!" He took Rose's hand and began leading her down a back corridor. "Come on!"

The Brigadier gave Sarah Jane a look, and she reflexively elbowed him in the ribs as the three followed them from a distance.

Rose could barely keep up with the Doctor's stride. He stopped in front of ornate double door and whirled around to face her. "Here, I want you to close your eyes."

Rose lifted a skeptical eyebrow.

"Rose, it's a surprise!"

She laughed, not being able to resist the Doctor's slight pout and complied. The Doctor waved his hand in front of her eyes to see if she reacted to the movement. He then pulled the doors open and took Rose's hand while leading her into the dark room.

"Can I open them?"

"Not yet! she could hear the Doctor scurrying to the opposite side of the room. She could hear the whoosh of large curtains being drawn back, and through her eyelids she could see the light streaming into the room. The Doctor returned to her side.

"Now, can I open them?"

"All right, now."

Rose opened her eyes and squinted at the light. When her eyes focused, she gasped. She was in the biggest library she had ever seen. Books covered every inch of wall space, all the way up to the vaulted ceilings. Ladders and spiral stairwells led up from the floor to the highest shelves. Rose walked to the nearest shelf and ran her fingers down the spine of a book.

"Seems like my ancestors were building an armory up, but with books. Books! Best weapons in the world." The Doctor's babbling tapered off, and he tugged at his ear uncertainly. Rose remained turned around and silent. "Don't you like it?"

"Like it?" Rose turned around to face him, with her tongue-touched smile. "It's fantastic! Oh, thank you!" Rose again hugged the Doctor, but this time they didn't let go as abruptly. They stepped back and grinned at each other.

The Stewarts stood in the doorway observing the two. The Brigadier leaned over to his wife and whispered, "There may be something there that wasn't there before."


	9. Part Nine

Rose was bundled in a long woolen coat, scarf, and cap to take Canine out. The little terrier was thrilled to be let out on the first sunny day in weeks despite the bitter chill. Rose, lost in thought, slowly wandered up the path to the gate. In two days it would be her birthday- the first one she would celebrate without her mum. She missed her mum terribly, but the circumstances she had been living under were much…improved.

Rose bit her lip against a smile. The Doctor had changed so much. Where he had once been gruff, bitter, and unwelcoming, he now sought her out, wanted her to share in his work. He seemed genuinely delighted with her. _What does that even mean, Rose Tyler? You're just an ordinary shop girl from Powell, and he's a brilliant doctor, scientist, lover of literature- ugh, he's nigh superhuman. …And he's still hurting._

The sound of an engine broke Rose's reverie. She looked up to see an automobile idling at the gate. A military courier came up to her with an envelope. "I have a message for Rose Tyler."

"That's me."

"Well, that was convenient! Good day to you, miss."

"And you," Rose mumbled. _What in the world could this be…MUM._ Rose hurriedly ripped at the envelope, crumpling the contents in her haste. She scanned it quickly, praying that her mother was all right. She was. Relief hit her and she wobbled a little on her feet. The letter detailed that she would be travelling with some civilians and American military and would be arriving home to London within a month. Rose grinned at the prospect of seeing her mum again and then paused. _One month._ She would be leaving the castle in a month. Actually, it would be shorter than that, as she would need to prepare their home for her mother's return. _Leaving…_

"Rose? It's time for dinner! I've got Canine!" Luke's voice echoed across the yard.

She stuffed the letter in her pocket, not sure how she was going to break the news.

She wasn't sure how she was handling the news.

The day of Rose's birthday rolled around, and Rose still hadn't told anyone about the letter. She only told Sarah Jane about her birthday a few weeks ago when Sarah had asked. Sarah Jane had made up a small cake for her for lunch- at which the Doctor oddly was not present. In fact, she hadn't seen him all day. Oh, well. Rose hadn't told the Doctor about it, anyway. She thought that he would find her announcing her birthday a childish frivolity.

Later that evening, Rose was cleaning up for their evening meal, when a soft tapping came from the door. "Rose?"

"Come in, Sarah Jane."

She came into the room bearing a long garment bag. "Why don't you wear this tonight?" She hung the bag up on the outside of Rose's wardrobe.

Rose looked at her quizzically and then went to unzip it. As the bag opened, she gasped. Inside was a gold silk evening gown. The dress had a halter that led to either side of a sweetheart cut bust. The bust was ruched and went to a large band around the waist, while folds of silk draped to the floor in the flowing skirt.

"Happy birthday, sweetheart!"

Rose hugged Sarah Jane. "It's gorgeous! It's just too much! How did you-?"

Sarah Jane smiled. "It's from all of us."

Rose blinked back tears. "Thank you so much." She again pulled Sarah Jane into a hug.

Sarah patted her back and then pulled away. "We haven't much time to get you dressed!"

"What's going on? Are we having some kind of party?"

Sarah Jane just smiled and ignored the question. "Now, let's see about your hair."

Rose stood in front of her full-length mirror. She didn't look herself! Her mum was a hairdresser, so she ended up fixing it herself, with Sarah Jane to help pin up the back. Her hair was parted to the side with the front sweeping above her forehead, curls loosely pinned to either side. The length of her hair was twisted up into a full bun.

The dress fit her perfectly, expertly tailored by Sarah Jane. There were matching gold peep-toe pumps that completed the ensemble. Rose twirled around once, feeling like a princess. Sarah Jane had told her to just come down to the ballroom when she was ready. She took a deep breath and exited her room.

Rose was about to reach the main staircase to the ballroom when she saw movement from the opposing hallway. The Doctor. Rose was glad he was turned to the side fiddling with buttons and hadn't noticed her gaping yet. He was dressed in his full dress uniform, which was a deep, rich green. The cut enhanced his slim figure. Instead of his usual trainers, he was wearing polished black shoes.

What shocked Rose the most was his hair and face. He had brushed his hair back neatly off his forehead. And, for the first time since she had arrived, he was clean-shaven. The lean, angular look of his face was more pronounced, but Rose felt it made him all the more handsome. Not to mention how much more noticeable his dimples were.

Rose softly cleared her throat, and the Doctor looked up. Warmth spread in her chest as she saw his eyes widen and mouth open slightly. She could have sworn she heard a "blimey."

She lifted her skirt and descended the stairs from her side that led to the main staircase. The Doctor half-stumbled down his side, and she giggled. He came to stand before her, eyes taking her in. "You look beautiful! Considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering that you always look lovely, especially covered in mechanical grease." Rose blushed and laughed.

The Doctor offered her his arm, and they descended into the ballroom. A full-length table was lit with candelabras and was covered with all of Rose's favorite foods. The Doctor let go of Rose's arm and quickly went around to pull out her chair for her. She instead walked to the other side of the long table and picked up the chair, bringing it back. "I'm not going to yell across a table at you all evening." She set the chair down and finally accepted the chair the Doctor was still holding.

Luke served them their dinner, dressed in a suit that was slightly too big. Rose and the Doctor talked through each course, often teasing each other. When the meal was finished, Rose noticed the console radio sitting in the corner. She went over and turned it on. After scanning through news and static, she landed on a station playing Glenn Miller's "In the Mood."

"Doctor, come dance with me."

"What?" he squeaked.

"Come on, will the universe implode if you dance?"

"Well," he said, straightening his collar. "I may have the moves, just wouldn't want to boast."

"So, show me your moves." Rose beckoned him to her.

The Doctor's uncertain gaze became intense, and he rose to stand in front of her. He slid a hand around her waist and took her left hand into his right without breaking eye contact. After a couple of hesitant steps, he began expertly leading them around the floor.

 _Of course he would be perfect at this, too._ Rose used the opportunity to look closer at his uniform.

"So, what do you think?"

"Hmm." Rose quickly scanned her eyes over him. "You clean up nice." She looked up to his hair and then ruffled it a bit. "Although, I think I prefer the hedgehog look. Suits you."

"Oi! And after all that hard work cleaning up for you. Ungrateful, Rose Tyler. Simply ungrateful."

Rose laughed, and then her smile faded. She lifted her hand that had been around his shoulder and slowly slid her index finger down the slight cleft in his chin. "I could definitely get used to this, though." She lifted her eyes to his as the music changed to Billie Holiday's "The Very Thought of You." The Doctor's adam's apple bobbed, and he pulled her closer to him. She laid her head on his chest, and after a moment, he leaned his cheek to her hair while they continued to sway to the music.

The song ended, and the Doctor stepped back. They were close to the outer doors to a balcony. He took her hand and murmured, "Let's get some air." The night was clear, and thousands of stars shone in the midst of the velvety black of the sky.

Rose felt Doctor step up behind her, and she turned to face him. He smiled softly. "Happy birthday, Rose."

Rose couldn't say what possessed her in that moment. All she meant to do was say, "Thank you." Instead, she found herself cupping the back of his head and pulling his lips to hers. After a quick moment, she broke away and took several steps back, realizing what she had just done. "I'm- I'm so sorry, I-"

Before she had even finished her sentence, the Doctor took two long strides towards her and covered her parted lips with his. His fingers threaded into her hair, and he used his other hand to pull her closer. Rose slid her hands up his chest and wove her fingers into his hair.

Suddenly, the Doctor pulled back. "I can't do this."

Rose shook her head to clear it. "What?"

"I can't do this," he repeated, almost to himself. "I swore I would never do this again."

Rose shook her head in confusion. "But it's obviously too late for that!"

"No, Rose." He laughed mirthlessly. "You're young and really don't know any better. You don't know enough to understand that I'm no good for you. I just got caught up."

Rose began to tremble. "You can't mean that."

"I'm old and lonely, what did you expect?"

Rose's voice kept an eerie calm despite how she felt that her world was crashing down around her. "But I thought we were- well, I obviously got it wrong."

The Doctor's face slid into that familiar mask that Rose had thought had been eradicated. "I'm sorry."

Rose gathered up her skirts and began walking back to the ballroom. She then stopped and abruptly turned back to him. "I got a note two days ago that my mother is returning to London. I wasn't sure how to tell you, but obviously it's much easier than I anticipated. I'll be packed and ready to go in the morning."

The Doctor's mouth moved for a second before he said, "I didn't mean that you had to leave…"

"I think it's best, considering."

He nodded without looking at her.

Rose entered the ballroom and tried not to fall as the tears began to blind her.

Rose didn't sleep at all that night as she packed. The Stewarts each took their turn trying to convince her to stay, but Rose stayed resolute. The Brigadier had a car called for her, and Rose tearfully hugged them all. As she walked up the path, the Doctor came running out of the castle towards her.

"Rose! Rose!"

She kept her pace without turning around. He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. "Rose, please don't go."

"Why shouldn't I?"

"Because- it's not safe. Your mother won't be there for a few more weeks."

Rose looked up at his disheveled appearance. He no longer had on his uniform coat, and his oxford was not tucked. His hair was manic where he had obviously been pulling at it.

"Doctor, I love you." His eyes widened impossibly further at her declaration. She kept on. "I love you, but I can't stay if we are just going to go on like nothing happened."

"But-"

"No. I can't do it. I know you love me." He refused to meet her eyes. "Go on, say it," she dared.

The car pulled up to gate. The Doctor's eyes met hers. "Rose Tyler-" and then he stopped.

Rose's eyes searched his face. "I'm sorry." She then climbed into the car.

The Doctor stood stationary as Rose Tyler drove away.


	10. Part Ten

The past two weeks had been the longest that Rose had ever faced. She had resumed her work back at the bookshop. After everything she had seen and experienced, Powell had seemed to lose what little luster it had to begin with. She was, however, slowly but surely putting her life back together. The nightly crying jags had waned, and she was again able to put on a happy face for customers and coworkers. Heartbroken as she was, she knew she had to keep going on with her life. She couldn't keep tossing between loving and hating him. She knew she had to "carry on."

Rose had closed up shop late that evening and was returning to her mum's house. Funny how she no longer considered it home. Where was home? Her mind conjured vast moors, the seemingly unending sheets of rain, a Scottish terrier curled at her feet, a overstuffed chair in front of a fire, a hand taking hers…no. _Rose Tyler, you are NOT going down that road tonight. You are just going to have to remake your home here._

The normally bustling streets of Powell were complete empty, like a ghost town. _Like her life now._ The only noises she could hear were the muffled noises coming from inside the darkened houses lining the street. A sharp wind blew past, carrying bits of paper and leaves. Rose wrapped her arms tighter around her torso and picked up her pace. The blackout curfew only allowed her half an hour to get home, and this evening Rose had wandered a little slower than usual.

As she rounded the corner to her street, she saw a man at the opposite end walking towards her. The man was in a brown trench coat with the collar pulled up against the cold, a fedora hanging low and covering most of his face. He was wearing…trainers. When he saw her there he stopped. _It can't be…_

It was. He broke out into a full run towards her, and Rose found herself running towards him despite how angry she was at him. He was grinning from ear-to-ear, and she couldn't help but reciprocate.

They had almost reached each other when a shrill whistle broke the night's stillness. "Hey, you two!" An air raid warden emerged from a side street. "What in the blazes do you think you're doing? We've got a war on!"

The Doctor rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort. Rose hastily spoke up before the Doctor put his foot in it and landed them with a fine or even in jail. "I'm so sorry, sir. I was late home from work, see, and he was meeting me. My home's just right here, and we'll be out of your way."

"See that you get there now." The warden's gaze went to each of them before he motioned them on.

Rose pulled the Doctor's arm to keep him from interjecting and took him into the house.

They entered the doorway, and the Doctor turned to her. "Well, they certainly don't pick wardens for their brains, now do they?"

Rose locked the door and removed her coat, not turning to meet the stare she could feel boring into the back of her head.

"Rose, please look at me." She glanced up at him then neatly slipped past him to walk from the foyer into her sitting room. "Rose, wait." She kept walking into the kitchen where she grabbed a kettle and began filling it with water. The Doctor cautiously came into the kitchen, still in his hat and coat. "Please hear me out."

She whirled around and stuck a finger in his chest. "No. I already heard what you have to say, or moreover, what you _don't_ have to say. I just let you in here because I didn't want to feel guilty for making you stay outside knowing that you'd get yourself thrown into custody."

She turned back to her stove and lit the gas burner, putting the kettle over the flame. Rose then walked past the Doctor back to the sitting room where she began to build a fire. "Rose, I know I deserve all of that and far worse." Rose snorted. "You have every right to be livid with me."

She could hear him begin to pace behind her. "I was just so…afraid. Here you come into my house, all pink and yellow, forcing your way into every part of my life. I didn't want you there."

Rose finally looked up at him. He had taken his hat off and dropped it into the chair. His hair was an odd combination of hat head and tufts that were standing on end from him absentmindedly raking through it.

He sat down in a chair with his eyes to the ground. "The last thing I wanted was to let you in. All I have ever done is lose those I let in." His hands fisted in his hair. "When Susan caught scarlet fever and died, I was on a train in Istanbul. Romana was already dying when I got home. I wasn't there. I was a _healer_ ," he hatefully spat out the word, "and there my family was _dying_. I had a major abnormality, and I had absolutely no idea! He jerked his head up and looked her straight in the eye. "You want to know why I have everyone call me 'The Doctor?' Because the man I used to be died with them. The title was everything I failed to be." He hung his head.

Rose came to kneel in front of him.

He looked up at her, completely broken. "Then I met you. You're intelligent, lovely, kind, and even _fun_ \- and you shockingly saw through all of my pretenses." She gave him a small smile. "You reminded me of the man I was. You made me better." He lifted his hand and slowly trailed his fingertips down her cheek. "But then all I could see was the day when I would fail you. The day when you would be the one lying on that bed, gasping for air, and there wouldn't be a thing I could do."

Rose took his face into her hands, wiping the tears that had started to fall down. "It's not your fault. There wasn't a thing you could have done differently. It was their time. Just as it will be when mine comes- but we have no idea when it could be." She pressed her forehead to his. "I could lose you tomorrow. That won't make me run away," she whispered.

"My precious girl," he murmured. "You're so different from Romana. I want you to know that you aren't some sort of replacement to me. I'll always miss her." He swallowed past the lump in his throat. "But I have been mental the past couple of weeks without you. The Brig and Sarah Jane can attest- they practically threw me out of my own home!" Rose laughed despite the tears filling her eyes.

"Doctor-" Rose began.

"Cian."

Rose's eyes widened. "What?"

"That's my name, Rose. Cian Aeric McCrimmon. My parents apparently wanted to make sure that the world knew I was from the north."

"Cian," Rose repeated, liking the way it lilted.

His answering grin spread across his face. He then knelt down so he and Rose were now face to face. "You were right."

She looked at him enquiringly.

"It does need saying. I can't go on another day without you running around my house, invading my space, cutting me down to size." Tears started rolling down Rose's cheeks and he framed her face with his hands, brushing them away. "Rose Tyler, I love you. I wish that those words-"

Rose cut him off by grasping his lapels and rising up to kiss him. He wrapped his arms around her waist, eliminating the space between them. They came up for air, only to have Cian immediately reclaim her lips.

When they broke apart, Cian grinned down at her. "You do realize that was a proposal?"

"What?"

"I told you I wanted you with me from now on. Wouldn't want everybody to think I'm a dishonorable man taking advantage of you, now would we?"

Rose put a finger to her chin. "Well- you are kind of old…"

"What?" he whinged. "I'm merely 34."

"Utterly decrepit." Rose mock-sighed.

"But you still love me," he sing-songed.

Rose's face sobered. "Yes."

His eyes searched hers. "Was that a yes, you love me, or a yes, you'll marry me?"

Rose grinned at him, tongue caught between her teeth. "Both."

Cian jumped to his feet, pulling her up with him. He then picked her up round the waist and spun her around in a circle, laughing. When he set her down on her feet again, he snogged her for all he was worth. As they deepened the kiss, Rose twined her fingers into his admittedly great hair. Her mind became fuzzy until reality came knocking.

"Rose?" a voice called from the hallway.

They quickly broke apart. "Mickey." Rose said.

Cian saw a boy of about nine walk up to the entryway. Rose smiled at him sheepishly. "The neighbors didn't like the thought of me being here all alone so they sent Mickey to stay with me every few days." She turned back to Mickey. "Mickey, this is my friend, the Doc- Dr. McCrimmon."

"Oh, Rickey, hello!" he said, shaking the boy's hand.

"It's Mickey," the boy mumbled. "I'm sorry Rose, I fell asleep. Is dinner ready?"

"No, no I'm sorry. I'll get that ready right now, all right?"

"Okay. Is he staying?"

Rose looked to Cian, who shrugged. "I didn't get a room at the hotel." He tugged at his ear. "I kind of was in a hurry to get here."

Rose's answering smile was devious. "Well, I hear Mickey kicks. Good luck with that."

**Cian (KEE-uhn) Celtic meaning "ancient." Aeric, derivative of Erik, Old Norse meaning "forever" and/or "alone."


	11. Epilogue

Rose entered the library, and a smile spread across her face at the sight before her. Cian was lying on a long couch, glasses precariously perched on his nose, snoring softly. The book he had been reading was spread like an accordion where it had fallen. On his chest lay their one-year-old son, who was currently making a rather impressive puddle of drool.

How far they had come. They were married the week of their reunion, much to her mother's chagrin. No one would ever accuse Cian of being a paragon of patience- but Rose had been just as eager, if she were honest. Since the war negated any sort of elaborate honeymoon, he sent the Stewarts on a small trip to Ireland, and they had the castle to themselves.

Not content that he should let his medical expertise go to waste, Rose coaxed Cian into opening up the castle to create a hospital for the war wounded. At first, Cian was involved as little as possible, but she delightedly watched as he gradually became more immersed and eventually ran the entire operation. The way he would light up every time he was able to help someone made her love him all the more.

After the war ended, he began to take her all over the world, showing her all the places she had admitted to dreaming about while sitting on that floor in his med room. They walked along the Great Wall and swam in the Great Barrier Reef. She wiggled her toes in the sands of Utah, watching the sunrise over Lake Powell. There was also the little incident in Madagascar involving a cheeky lemur and a banana Cian had sticking out of his back pocket- that she was sworn upon pain of death to never tell anyone.

They had been planning a short jaunt to Cardiff- _It's where they make those little edible ball bearings, Rose!_ \- when Rose had realized she was pregnant. Through the war and in the aftermath, they had been happily running together, not really taking much consideration for the future. Now she was afraid to tell him, afraid that it would rehash his past. He had become much more open as the years passed, but there were rare dark days when his melancholy would return. She decided that it was best to just rip off the plaster quickly and get it all over with.

Rose found Cian sitting in his study, Cardiff brochures spread around. "Rose! I've also found a little shop that we can visit after we go to the factory, it will be brilliant! I can't believe that I've never been there before, and it's in our proverbial back yard! You know, I went through a phase where I was obsessed with jelly babies-"

"I'm pregnant."

He rattled on, "but you can only have so many of those before you make yourself- Wait, what did you say?" He was on his feet in a second, standing right in front of her.

Squeezing her eyes closed, Rose whispered, "I'm going to have a baby."

She heard a soft thud, and opened her eyes to find that he had fallen to his knees in front of her. He tentatively reached a hand forward and splayed it on her stomach. After a breathless moment, he looked up at her, beaming, with tears shining in his eyes. He wordlessly pulled her forward and leaned his cheek against her stomach, encircling her with his arms. Rose blinked back her own tears as she combed her fingers through his hair.

Jamie brought Rose back into the present, as he started snuffling and shifting like he was going to wake up. Rose sat down on the edge of the couch and gently lifted him from Cian's chest. She tried to rock him back to sleep. Having a baby was the most exhausting, infuriating, taxing, yet rewarding thing she had ever undertaken. The quiet moments like this were few and far between, and Rose cherished them.

Cian's arm that had been securing Jamie twitched and landed in the drool on his shirt, causing him to start awake. He looked around, endearingly confused, until his eyes landed on Rose.

"I must have drifted off. Oh, lovely," he said, wiping the drool on his hand on his trousers.

Rose smirked. "Now you know what I feel like in the mornings."

"Oi! I do not drool!"

"Your pillowcase suggests otherwise."

He huffed, but smiled back at Rose. She transferred Jamie to her other side and took Cian's hand. "C'mon. Dinner's ready."

He leaned forward and kissed her. " _Allons-y_."


End file.
